


To Service a Queen

by Kiintsugi



Series: A Royal Affair [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/F, Preview of future fic, That shits for politics not for love, Yall know Clarke and Commander hearteyes are endgame everything, but it's not real, implied bellarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiintsugi/pseuds/Kiintsugi
Summary: Lexa is more beautiful than she could ever imagine. She is toned muscles and scarred skin, tanned by the sun and smooth like a rock in the river. All those jagged lines and sharpened blades that make up her front are as tangible as the wind, untouchable but unmistakable, and Clarke can’t help but let the feeling of all that is Lexa wash over her like a gentle autumn breeze.-A one shot sample of the stupid long Royalty/affair fic i've been working on
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: A Royal Affair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684315
Comments: 15
Kudos: 177





	To Service a Queen

**Author's Note:**

> i'm working on a full fic in this AU but im getting impatient about sharing it so I wrote this in the meantime

It’s been six months since Clarke first arrived to King Bellamy’s court. And with six months down, she has one night to go. 

One more night before Clarke is swept away in a flurry of rose petals and silks, guided down the long, marble columned halls of the Cathedral of  Rouva , given to a man most handsome and kind, and crowned Queen of  Arkadia . It is a gift and privilege. A gift and privilege any woman in the realm would surely give their  first born son to have themselves. But in spite of that, in spite of knowing just how lucky she should feel, Clarke can’t help but feel as though she has been dammed by the gods who have chosen her for this role. 

By all accounts, the man known as  Shieldbreaker who came to take the throne at only sixteen summers at the end of a grueling twelve-year war for the throne, is a fine and fair king. He is as handsome as he is brave, as strong as he is wise, and as sharp as he is gentle. Any woman in the realm would be lucky to call a man like Bellamy her husband, even without the titles of royalty that come with being his wife. But Clarke doesn’t have eyes for the handsome bachelor who owns the world, she has eyes for the captain of his guard; a woman of the Kingsglaive named Lexa. 

Lexa is as different from Bellamy as they come. Where Bellamy laughs, Lexa scowls. She’s an assortment of sharpened steel and dragon’s fire, hardened and battle tested and uninterested in the pleasures provided by the royal court. No one in their right mind would pick the  Kingsglaive captain over the King himself. Not when Lexa’s reputation as hostile and inflexible is a well-known as Bellamy’s reputation as fair and just. But Clarke can’t help herself. She feels a heat swell within her whenever Lexa’s green eyes meet hers, and she feels nothing but obligation and duty when she meets with her King.

It’s complicated and difficult to explain; this insatiable desire she feels whenever Lexa enters the room. It’s ravenous and powerful, almost overwhelming at times and completely immobilizing at others. It’s a feeling she’s never experienced before, something no one prepared her for. Something she didn’t even know was possible until now.

As a lady of a high house, Clarke was taught how to be a lady proper. The largest component of a lady’s training is preparation for marriage and motherhood, where she will be expected to act as the binding knot in house alliances and raise heirs to the house she serves. She expected to be wed to a man of equally notable stature as herself, perhaps to the heir of house  Jaha or Collins She always hoped for the former, but after Wells died in the war, she assumed it would be the latter. 

Becoming Bellamy’s wife should be a blessing. To be free of her impending duty to house  Collins is truly a gift. She knows this and she pays her blessings to the gods every morning that she is not a prisoner of a house as unpredictable as House  Collins . And for a while, she prayed to the gods so that she might feel for Bellamy the way she feels for Lexa. She prayed every day, twice a day even, in hopes that this heat between her legs would spawn at the sight of her soon to be husband the way it did for Lexa. But her prayers were never answered.

Perhaps because it wasn’t her true prayer.

Perhaps because her true prayer has always been for Lexa to feel for her what she feels for Lexa. 

And perhaps, the gods heard her true prayer, because the night before her wedding – the night before she is to be crowned Queen – it is Lexa in her bed, not Bellamy.

Lexa is more beautiful than she could ever imagine. She is toned muscles and scarred skin, tanned by the sun and smooth like a rock in the river. All those jagged lines and sharpened blades that make up her  front are as tangible as the wind, untouchable but unmistakable, and Clarke can’t help but let the feeling of all that is Lexa wash over her like a gentle autumn breeze.

Her touch is soft and tender; her fingers calloused and rough against her thighs, and her tongue is gentle and firm against her flesh. She takes her gently at first, and passionate and rough by the end, and Clarke is lost for words and gasping for air by the end of it all that she’s certain she can see through the roof of the castle and into the starry skies above. 

Lexa lays in her feather bed and Clarke runs her fingers through her wild and unruly hair; lets her fingers tangle in the small braids that cascade down the side of her head and lay upon her shoulders. In the low candle light, stripped of her war paint, her iron and her steel, Lexa is an entirely different person. She’s soft, and light and honest and.... and vulnerable. It’s like her walls crashed to the floor with her chainmail and she has no intention of putting them back up. She lets Clarke’s fingers run down her scarred features, the apple of her cheek, the strong lines of her jaw, down her neck and breasts, nipples perking from the sensation of the touch.

“This was a bad idea,” Lexa whispers as Clarke’s fingers trace the dip of her torso, the gentle swell of her hips. She says the words but her voice betrays her attempted resistance. Maybe if she used the voice Clarke had known first –  her commanding voice with that unmistakably powerful tone – maybe then, Clarke would have believed her. But she doesn’t use that voice. She uses the voice reserved just for her; a voice that’s delicate and purposeful and barely registers as more than a whisper. 

“This was an excellent idea,” Clarke corrects. “The best.”

When Lexa is like this, when her armor – both literal and figurative – are cast aside, Clarke feels like the luckiest woman in the realm. No one could have convinced her that Lexa was this giving, this tender. No one could have prepared her for the way her brutal honesty and sharp allegiance to the King could become so evanescent, so benign; that her core traits could become little more than remnants in Clarke’s presence. When she’s with Lexa like this, feeling seen and heard and loved, she almost forgets that her future lies with a man who cannot even begin to compare to the woman before her now.

“I could be executed,” Lexa says in a voice entirely too nonchalant for the severity of the words themselves. “You could be executed.” 

She says this as if they had broken this rule for the first time, but Lexa’s allegiance to her King had been tested and broken long before this night.

Their first time, Lexa had come to her after realizing Clarke was in a particularly sour mood towards her soon to be husband. He hadn’t done anything wrong, per say, but he insisted upon a jousting tournament in honor of their aligning houses and spent the day drinking and partying and paying her little mind or attention. It wouldn’t have upset her at all if she friends or family or literally anyone at her side to keep her company, but all she had was Bellamy and the vast halls of the Castle of which she had no desire to explore. At least, until Lexa showed up.

Lexa was fine and honorable that day, seeking only to comfort Clarke in her time of need, as any good knight of the Court would. But my then, Clarke had already set her sights on Lexa and it was entirely Clarke’s doing that they wound up in some closet or another, pressed against one another with lidded eyes and hot and heavy breaths between them, Lexa’s fingers working a spell on Clarke in a way she never knew possible.

“Only if we get caught,” Clarke teases, trying to make light of the situation because right now the last thing she wants is to think about her future with the King.

“Are you suggesting that we just... not get caught? Clarke, this is the King’s castle, his eyes are everywhere.”

They hadn’t gotten caught yet, and that was saying something because Clarke finds it very difficult to keep her lips sealed shut when Lexa is between her thighs.

Their usual meeting ground is here in Clarke’s room. A room that come tomorrow would be hers no longer. They choose this room because Bellamy leaves her be here, and she guarded by none other than Lexa herself. No one thinks twice about Lexa entering her chambers and so long as Clarke can keep her lips sealed, none would be any the wiser. But come tomorrow she would move into the King’s chambers, forever. She doesn’t like to think about that. Not when all her best memories of living in this castle are tied to this room; tied to Lexa.

Clarke nestles into Lexa with a shake of her head. She  _ really _ doesn’t want to talk about her future right now. She just wants to be here, in this moment, with Lexa. “Let’s not talk about that now. I don’t want to miss this.”

Lexa plants a kiss upon the crown of Clarke’s head and she feels her fingers stroke her hair. “Very well, my queen,” she says. “Another time then.”

“I’m not your queen,” Clarke complains. 

“You are a queen to me,” Lexa says, stroking Clarke’s hair. “Whether you are married to a King or not.”

Clarke smiles into Lexa, her arms snaking back up to twist themselves around her neck. She pulls the usually stoic guard into a kiss that grows passionate and raw the instant their lips touch. Lexa’s tongue works magic against her own and as Lexa works her way down her neck and over her breasts it takes everything Clarke has within her not to moan out  Lexa’s name.

She’s right, after all, the king has spies in every corner of the castle. 

Lexa stops shy of her breasts and resurfaces from the blankets of fur upon her bed.  “You’re  quite the addiction, Lady Clarke,” she says. “You make me do things  – feel things – I swore an oath to reject.”

“You swore an oath to protect the  King and serve the people,” Clarke says writhing underneath Lexa.  “Is this not a service?”

A sly smile plays on Lexa’s features before she leans down and kisses Clarke’s collar bone.  “ My queen,” she says between kisses. “Is both an honor and a privilege  to serve you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kiintsugi.tumblr.com


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